Regrets, Mistakes, Memories Made
by MegalegU
Summary: An argument between Hank and Evan wedges a wall between the two brothers - a wall of silence, of desperation, of a need to feel accepted. Can that impenetrable wall be broken down with one simple, fluid motion? Set season 3, pre-HankMed breakup.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, my friend and I could not wait for the next Royal Pains episode and decided to come up with this! She's helped me a ton (as always) so here it is. Feel free to tell me what you think!**

* * *

It's a typical sunny day in The Hamptons - perfect weather for the rich and powerful to go out on their rock-lined patios to soak up some UV rays. Also typical, is that Hank is stuck listening to Evan's nonsensical ramblings about HankMed's 'expansive publicity outlets'. Granted, it's Evan, so he shouldn't be surprised, and normally he would have more patience but it's seven in the morning, he's only just gotten his coffee and he spent all day yesterday running around tending to an array of different ailments that needed the most specific treatment he's ever given. Honestly, he just needs a break and Evan's of course all wide eyes and gesticulations and barely pausing to take a breath in between his animated sentences.

"Ev..." Hank starts, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"...and Hank, if you just let me have a little leeway, I could really turn this into something, you know? Not that we NEED a huge something or anything but it's not exactly a secret that we don't advertise that much."

"Ev," Hank says, a little sharper.

But Evan's now shoveling his cereal into his mouth while he talks and the combination of mushed-up Fruit Loops and business revenue exclamations are enough to make his stomach turn.

"Seriously, though-" Evan slurps his milk back loudly-"we could get more attention if you let up a bit because I know you're a little shy promoting yourself but see, the thing is-"

"EVAN!" Hank slams his coffee mug down on the countertop.

"Hank, if you're really that upset about it I could just handle it all. You don't even have to do an OUNCE of work. Well, except for photo ops and stuff like that-"

"Evan..." Hank says tersely. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Okay, cool, we can talk about this later, maybe like noon or something? Because if we decide to do this we should start today."

Hank levels Evan with a stare Jill has been known to have coined "pre-caffeine Hank". "Evan, I don't want to talk about it at all today or tomorrow or the next day."

Evan falters just a fraction. "I don't...when do you...wanna talk about it...then?"

"Never," Hank says simply, getting up and turning to the fridge for something to eat.

Evan looks at him, confused. "What?"

"Evan, I've told you countless times before - I don't. Want. To. Advertise. It'll just be forced and unrealistic. Patients know that I care because I help them get better - not through some gimmicky commercial."

Evan looks a little irritated. "It's not like you're selling your soul, Hank."

"I'd be selling _myself_, which is just not something I'm comfortable with."

"Well you don't have to go all Leo DiCaprio on me - I'm not asking you to jump ship, just put out some tasteful flyers or something at the least. It helps people out to see things up close."

"Because the way I look might make a difference in their health?"

"You're not listening to what I'm saying, Hank."

"Actually, I think that's the opposite. Every time we talk about this you don't listen to what I have to say, you're only concerned with how YOU feel about whatever harebrained idea you come up with."

"Harebrained? Who was it that helped to create this business in the first place, busting MY ass to get us some clients while you were off moping about getting fired?"

"I was not moping!" Hank protests. "Just because you're so used to losing everything all the time doesn't mean _I _can just bounce back to normal, like it doesn't even faze me."

Evan seems to flinch at Hank's words. "I wasn't trying to _fix you_ or anything - just trying to help you! We wouldn't even be here right now if it wasn't for me."

"I get it, Ev," Hank says in exasperation. "But you don't need to keep improving everything all the time. HankMed doesn't need to be plastered on billboards."

"I didn't ask for billboards, specifically."

"Don't be a smartass."

"Hank, come on! I just think we could use a few ideas."

"I said NO, Evan."

"You always say no! Why don't you ever have any faith in my ideas?"

"Because they're always just that - ideas! Most of the time they get us into trouble. No, they get ME into trouble."

"Is that what I am to you? A nuisance?"

"You haven't really done anything to prove otherwise." Hank snaps out the words like a reflex, a knee-jerk reaction that leaves a shocked brother in its wake.

"Glad to know I bring so much to the table," Evan says crisply.

"Can we just not do this right now?" Hank asks tiredly. "I was very busy yesterday."

"Oh yeah?" Evan asks with mock surprise. "I guess it'll come as a shock to you, then, that I spent all day yesterday organizing HankMed's financials. You'd be surprised how it piles up when no one gives it any attention."

"Oh, like how you gave it so much attention when you lost all our money?" Hank can't help but blurt out, his irritation morphing into something much bigger, more powerful. Some small part of him knows they've managed to surpass all that but he can't lie to himself and say that it doesn't niggle at him once in a while, the fact that he never asked for any of it and got it torn away from him just the same.

Evan's blue eyes, light and playful, seem to darken at Henry's declaration. "I know I messed up, I admitted that, Henry. I'm sorry that my mistakes are the only things by me that you remember." With that, Evan crisply leaves the room, disappears off and leaves Hank with just a near-empty mug of coffee and an open refrigerator - its limited contents staring back at him, almost daring him to speak up.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hank and Evan dodge each other for the next few days, finding ways to make sure they don't have to glimpse the other. A weird pall falls over the kitchen's atmosphere, rendering it uninhabitable. Hank will only eat his oatmeal outside or snag a banana on his way to a patient's house. Food surreptitiously appears in the refrigerator and in turn, Hank makes a conscious effort to clean whatever dishes he eats off. Divya takes notice of the lack of Evan and Hank brushes off her attempts to weasel her way into it, simply saying, "It'll all blow over."

Evidently, Hank's vague brushoff does not pan out the way he thinks (_hopes_) it will, as Evan scarcely appears in the house at all. He would be genuinely worried if he hadn't seen Evan's van parked in the expansive driveway one night, stumbling into the home exhausted from a hectic day. He wonders exactly what Evan's doing with his time, always gone from the house but somehow sorting out the mail and stacking it, dividing it into HankMed and personal every afternoon, as evidenced by the envelopes on the dining room table.

Two days turns into four days and then four into six and the mixture of regret and irritation evolves into an almost sort of…emptiness. He almost misses Evan's snarky comments that would no doubt find their way to the Hamptons socialites that contracted alcohol poisoning. He misses Evan's typically-animated persona, seeming to merit permission from the room to gain attention, even if it isn't always positive attention.

He spends an entire hour jogging by the beach and trying to formulate ways to get Evan to forgive him. It won't take a simple bowl of popcorn and a movie marathon this time, he knows. Maybe remind him that he supplies a good quotient to the business, coupled with frozen yogurt? Hank, in his almost-ignorant approach at Evan's feelings, does not expect at all the almost volatile reaction his brother gives him the next evening, when he makes it a point to be in the kitchen when he knows Evan will appear.

**OoOoOoOo**

It's six in the evening, the sun beginning to cast a hazy glow over the remnants of the day, when Hank and Evan finally speak. Hank orders a pizza, sits down at the kitchen table and waits for his brother to arrive. He idly taps a beat against the pizza box and then abruptly stops at the sound of the back door opening.

He hurriedly tries to make it look like he's just casually standing there, about to have a piece of pizza, when he hears his brother's light footfalls approaching the kitchen.

"Hey, I got some pizza – want any?" Hank half-lifts the box like an offering.

Evan, walking right on by, says, "No thanks." The soft quality of his tone makes Hank miss his normal jubilation. He quickly walks over to his brother, places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Ev," he starts, but Evan's shoulders rise to his ears, flinching away from Hank's touch.

Hank is so surprised by Evan's reaction that he just watches in surprise as Evan swiftly turns, moving his brother's hand and exhaling heavily under his breath.

"I just wanna talk to you, Ev," Hank persists, his words being thrown like a secret.

Evan's eyes lock onto Hank's and finally he says, "I heard you loud and clear the other day, Henry." The crisp elocution of his words renders Hank speechless.

"Evan…" he finally manages to speak around the suspicious lump forming in his throat but Evan's already walking away again.

**OoOoOoOo**

Another week passes with the same stretching feeling, Evan avoiding Hank, Hank tending to his patients and Divya rolling her eyes and sighing at the two brothers' dance around each other. It's not until two weeks and four days after the fight that Hank, Evan and Divya all land in the same vicinity.

Hank's out in the town trying to clear his head and Divya's tagged along with him for something to do so they're drinking coffee and Evan's wandering aimlessly around, trying to spend some time out of the house.

"So, Hank…" Divya looks at the doctor over her cup of espresso. "Are you going to tell me why you and Evan are acting like children?"

Hank knows he's trapped this time. Divya's been trying to get him to talk for days and for once he actually feels like it. "We got in a little argument about HankMed publicity." Hank admits, rubbing a hand over his eyes so he won't have to look at the PA. "Evan was giving all these ideas and I'd had a hard day – I was a little annoyed. I snapped at him."

Divya looks at Hank with a curious eye. "What did you say that's got him ignoring you?"

Hank looks down at the table. "It's…it's stupid, I-" suddenly his words are cut off as a large green truck careens into a black Escalade right beside the sidewalk café. In typical doctor fashion, Hank springs out of his chair and rushes to the scene, immediately taking notice of the man behind the wheel of the truck, nursing a wound at his forehead.

"Hi, I'm Hank, I'm a doctor. Can you tell me where it hurts?" Hank asks, looking for any visible signs of injury other than the one on the man's forehead.

Meanwhile, Divya is rushing to dial for an ambulance and suddenly Evan's at her side, taking everything in with surprise.

Once Divya's done relaying the information to the 911 operators, glancing at Evan the entire time, she turns to the younger Lawson with shock. "What are you doing here?" she asks.

The young woman in the Escalade swings out of the driver's side door and steps onto the sidewalk, completely dazed.

Hank, preoccupied with the man in the truck, shouts, "Divya!", casting a sidelong glance at the stumbling Escalade driver, not even noticing Evan, a crowd already forming around the crashed cars in interest.

Divya gives Evan one last look as if to say, _we're not done here_ and then runs over to the Escalade driver to get her to sit down.

Hank checks on the man in the truck, who is seemingly okay, save for a little shock. He takes his head out of the window and turns, ready to go help Divya, when another car spins toward the fray. His feet stay rooted to the road in complete surprise and that's when from a few feet away, Evan pushes through the crowd, shouting, "HANK!"

Because, the thing is, nothing's ever been so simple. Hank is in danger and he's not moving and Evan's got two perfectly good legs so he does what his adrenaline and natural intuition tells him to do: he bolts over to his brother, who is now doubly surprised, not only at his impending doom but that his brother's suddenly decided to materialize before him to watch.

But that's when Evan's arms are jutting out towards him and he's being pushed backwards, meeting the ground in a kaleidoscope of colors and Evan _was _there but now he's not and Hank is pretty sure he hears Divya scream as the impact of the oncoming vehicle propels his brother down the road, rolling and stopping, face-down.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews!**

* * *

Hank jolts up like he's been shocked and runs to Evan, possessed by an unidentifiable force.

It's only about six feet away from him, his brother and the now-still convertible, but it feels like he's on an airport runway, this long stretch that is impossible to canvass within seconds by foot.

But finally Hank reaches Evan, dropping to his knees on the pavement, on the shards of glass from the convertible's windshield and for once, his hands can't immediately land to the patient _(to Evan)_. They're shaking, unsteady, coupled with his pounding heart and just hovering in trepidation.

Divya is at his side saying something but Hank doesn't hear her _(can't hear her)_ because he's too busy fighting the force that isn't letting him touch the fragile being that's morphed from his brother.

He gently rolls his brother over to face him, holding his breath as he does so. "Oh, Ev..." Hank whispers, eyes darting over his brother's complexion which has become some sort of canvas - an array of small cuts on his forehead, cheek and chin, a bruise blooming along his jawline. And that's just his face. Hank doesn't want to think about the dangers underneath Evan's button-up shirt or the fact that one of his legs is dangerously bent.

"Hank, I've already dialed 911," Divya offers, her words trying to placate the man but they just fall flat to the doctor, who is too busy checking Evan for a pulse _(why had he not thought of that earlier?)_.

Thankfully, he does have a pulse - as dangerously slow as it is - and just as Hank is about to lift his brother's shirt to examine the rest of him, Evan's eyes open, a gradual movement that has Hank completely distracted, moving back to his brother's face.

"Ha...nk?" Evan asks, voice carrying a pain-filled rasp.

"Evan!" Hank blurts, because that's the only word he can say right now, the only one that's important.

"What...?" Evan continues, his blue eyes scuttling across the scene around him: the crashed vehicles, Divya running back and forth to the injured drivers and finally Hank himself, who for once isn't the picture of tranquility. He looks almost...afraid of Evan. Evan wonders briefly if he had done something to scare him right before everything had gone hazy.

"Evan, you were in an accident." Hank rushes to fill in, watching the way his brother's breathing seems to get more labored. He keeps it short, keeps it simple because if he expands any further on that word, accident, he's not sure he'll have good control over his breathing either. He thinks back to the moment when Evan had shouted his name and the _strength _with which he had shoved him. Evan had seemed so...determined not to let the car hit Hank.

"Wha...'bout you?" Evan asks, eyes flicking down to the blood on Hank's hands that had come off of his own shirt.

Hank's eyes follow the invisible path Evan had created. He looks at the blood in surprise for a moment and then remembers whose it is.

"No..." Hank manages. "No, Evan, I'm okay. Just...just stay focused on you, alright?" he watches in surprise as Evan's hand slowly rests on his arm.

"Glad…you're okay." Evan says between breaths. Hank just keeps staring at him with that weird look, like he's not sure whether he's terrified or relieved, hanging in a balance.

Hank notices the look in Evan's eyes, the way he's regarding him like he's half-insane and says quickly, "Yeah, I am, let's just worry about you, alright?"

Evan's eyelids start to descend downward. "Don't…worry 'bout…me."

"Evan!" Hank warns, feeling something inside him pull. Because the thing is, the horrible, simple truth of it is that Hank has seen this before, knows this route that patients go on. And it's not a particularly good one.

Evan's eyes snap open once again.

"Just…stay awake." Hank finds himself pleading with this version of his brother.

Evan's eyes still look like they are straining to stay open and Hank has never felt so hopeless. He feels like he's been stripped of all power, forced to watch the way pain unfolds across his brother.

Behind him, Divya is talking to the Escalade woman and telling her to _please sit down _and some small part of Hank knows Divya can't handle all these injuries on her own but he can't _(can't) _leave Evan here on the road, surrounded by strangers vying to get a glimpse of the chaos.

"Hey, Ev!" Hank takes his brother's hand, gives it a firm enough squeeze, demands, "Stay awake!"

Evan blinks. Two slow, heavy movements and then his eyes stay closed.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hank is no stranger to hospitals. Having spent years as an ER doctor, he's seen some pretty traumatic injuries and rarely, death. But never before has he seen it through the eyes of the distressed companion - the mother/father/brother/sister/wife/husband ratio that never failed: patient gets wheeled to hospital, mother/father/brother/sister/husband/wife nervously frets in the waiting room crying/pacing/wringing his/her hands and then the doctor walks in and either gently sits them down or begins the diagnosis standing.

But see, the thing is, Hank doesn't want to fit in this equation, this cut and dry approach that can so easily fit him into the fold. Because he's not the mother/father/brother (well, he is)/sister/wife/husband. He's the concierge doctor, the big brother, the one who is supposed to do the saving. But it's not him behind those doors – it's him that has to sit in the cramped, plastic chair and pretend like he cares about _People's _100 Sexiest Men. And since when the hell is Johnny Depp considered attractive?

Hank's fiddling with the corners of the magazine's cover, folding them back and straightening them when the doctor walks in. He immediately jumps from his chair, not saying a word, just staring at the woman before him.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Hartman." The woman reaches for his hand and Hank dismissively shakes hers, eager to know the condition of his brother.

Hank is barely listening to the doctor, who goes through the formalities of introducing herself and knowing who Hank is and gosh he's such a great doctor and poor, poor little brother of his, he's got a broken leg and some bruised, broken ribs but he will be fine, miraculously and that is all Hank needs because somewhere in there, there was the word _fine_.

"…he's on the third floor, room 112-"

And Hank's off, running.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hank has been hesitant in his life about a lot of things. He was hesitant when he proposed to his girlfriend back in New York because it was one hell of a step _(and look where it got him),_ he was hesitant about this new life in The Hamptons, where everyone and everything are all hiding behind facades made up of how much money they make and what parties they throw and he is hesitant about one thing in particular, at this very moment and that is the opening of Evan's hospital room door.

He's not sure why, exactly, his hands are shaking, his heart racing. He has done this before, created a pattern, really, of the ER doctor that delivers the news, outlines conditions and apologizes when all is lost. But right now he's not that collected doctor with the calm tone and gentle gestures. He's a statistic, a variable, a typical role in this entire thing. But that's all logic and there can't possibly be any way to retrieve it in the murky mess that is Hank's mind.

Opening the door, if you look at it objectively, really is the hardest part of the process. Opening the door means looking at the patient _(at Evan)_, seeing the bumps and bruises _(from the car)_ and then having to sit down and wait for the patient _(for Evan)_ to wake up. But somehow delaying the process seems like a much simpler idea, almost a coward's way out. Hank has never felt so uninhabited from his own body - just looking down at himself, a stranger that can't function without a means, a map handed to him on how to operate. But really, there isn't a map when it's your brother.

Finally, Hank finds his hand floating up to the doorknob and opening it, holding his breath when he steps into the room and unwillingly looks over at his brother. At such a distance he can't really assess the injuries _(he knows them by definition, knows the exact ones Dr. Hartman had explained) _and he wonders if he should move any further. He can't stand the little modicum of apprehension at the back of his mind that has him so…_scared _to just go into Doctor Mode.

He moves closer to Evan's bed, one step at a time. And when he finally gets there…he forces himself to look, _really _look.

A particularly large gash on Evan's forehead had needed stitches, which is the most brutal, face-wise. There is a collection of minor scrapes and bruises on his cheeks and chin but otherwise generally okay.

As for the rest of him…Hank's eyes travel down to his brother's ribs, where two had been cracked and another bruised from the car's impact. Looking even further, Hank takes notice of the cast on his brother's left leg and winces at the memory of Evan's body being thrown down the road.

All in all, as Dr. Hartman had said, Evan is pretty fortunate. He could have been much worse off or really…the other thing…but it's still a pretty traumatic day, not counting the weeks he and Evan hadn't spoken at all, not counting the way his brother had flinched at such a simple touch on his shoulder.

Hank knows there is so much more to think about and discuss but for now he'll just lean back in a cheap plastic chair and wait for his brother to re-enter the world.

**OoOoOoOo**

Evan waking up sort of goes like this:

"Hank."

"…"

"Hank!"

"…"

"_Hank_!"

"…"

"_HANK!_"

"Jesus, Evan!" Hank shouts and since it's the first time he's said his brother's name in a long time, he smiles about falling out of his chair with urgency at the sound of a voice.

"I can't help it if you snore louder than a polar bear," Evan says, eyes illuminated once more.

"Really? You couldn't have picked a different animal? A lion, maybe?"

"Hank, you are nowhere near as majestic as a lion." Evan rolls his eyes and Hank smiles through his annoyance because after two days of anticipation his brother is finally awake and joking, despite the tight lines at his eyes, like maybe he's holding back that he's in pain.

There is a sudden shift change in the atmosphere and Hank knows that he has to say this, has to get everything out.

"How are you doing?" he asks first.

Evan rubs his eye. "Well, I've been awake practically the entire morning and have been pestered by three different nurses all who have"-he pushes himself up in his bed-"asked me that same question."

"And?"

"My chest hurts a little and my leg feels weird," Evan admits, avoiding Hank's concerned gaze. "But I wouldn't mind some food other than runny eggs and warm milk." He looks over at his barely-touched breakfast.

"You first, food later." Hank instructs, looking outside the room for a nurse.

**OoOoOo**

It's later, evening, when Evan wakes up again from his pain med-induced slumber. This time Hank's waiting – just idly leaning back in his chair, counting the tiles on the ceiling and wondering how exactly to start his apology _(because, really, Evan pushing him out of the way of a speeding car even though he'd been a complete asshole to him before merits something)_.

"Hey," Evan says slowly, attempting to form words through a raspy voice.

"Hey," Hank says back, still waiting for the vertigo to pass, the one that tilts his world every time Evan opens his expressive eyes.

Hank looks down at his watch. "It's about eight 'o clock."

Evan nods and then looks over at his brother. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Hank breaks through the dam, the apprehension. "Evan…you were in a serious accident." (Except accident doesn't really sum it up quite so correctly).

Evan looks at his brother like he's got amnesia or something. "Yes...I was aware of that when I felt my body roll over the car."

Hank shakes his head. "You don't…you don't understand how serious it was."

"Because I don't know medical terms to comprehend it?" Evan asks, immediately anticipating a Hank Medical Lecture with the jargon he learned from years of schooling. He starts to say something else but Hank cuts him off, blurts, "You jumped in front of a car!" because he can not hold this in, keep this information only to himself. "You could have died!"

Evan seems to flinch.

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" _(how brave, how selfless?). _

Evan starts to speak up, to say something and then stops as Hank continues.

"You really scared me, Evan." And there it is, raw, full of purpose, honest.

And then something in Evan opens, something equally as passionate – if not more so – than Hank's outburst.

"_You _would have been killed if I hadn't done something!" Evan shouts, true anger finding its way through his words because Hank can not just sit here and yell at him for saving his life.

Hank stops, pauses mid-rant and sees the way Evan's eyes are wide, the stance he's holding, even sitting down in the bed, the way his words seem to have been wrenched out of him. It almost feels like Evan's kept the declaration clandestine for years, even though it's only been a few days.

"I…I saw the way you were standing there." Evan says, gesturing to his brother. "You weren't going to move!" at Hank's lack of response he adds, softer, "You…you were going to get hurt."

_Oh, Ev, _Hank wants to say. Because the hell of it all is that Evan is concerned for _him _getting hurt when Hank – metaphorically, anyway – had been the one to hurt his brother. But despite the weeks of the cold shoulder, here Evan is, honest and wide-eyed and almost…vulnerable in his delivery. Hank wants to say something, wants to say a million things but he feels like his mind is a slate wiped clean and all previous notions of saying anything remotely close to what he wants to have evaporated. His brother's sentence was so simple and yet the complexities are not lost on him.

So what tumbles from his mouth is, "Thank you."

Evan looks bewildered and Hank doesn't blame him. He sits there for a moment, wishing there's some sort of guide for a man who has virtually everything laid out already for him but can't seem to function when emotions come into play.

Finally, he says, "Look, Ev, I'm sorry about…before."

Evan blinks rapidly as if trying to reject the conversation. "You don't have to say anything."

"No, I do," Hank interrupts before his walls of stability completely tumble down. "I was wrong to say those things about you. I'd…I'd had a rough day and was unfair by letting it out on you." It's difficult to say these things, to expose this side he refuses to display. He's a doctor; he can't afford to make mistakes. And yet here he is, opening up to the biggest one he's made yet.

Evan is caught between wanting to diffuse the eerie feeling he's acquired about the fact that this conversation is happening at all to continuing to listen to his brother.

Hank is looking at him like he's this fragile being and he can't help but be a little curious as to where this is going.

"I know I don't exactly…express my appreciation for…what you do," Hank looks right at Evan because he has to. "And I should because honestly, you do a lot for…for HankMed."

"Thanks…" Evan says slowly, almost wary of this version of his brother.

Hank still has more to say, more to elaborate on and he pushes himself to get it out now. "I shouldn't…be focused on your mistakes so much. I mean, I make mistakes too. It was a mistake to say all of those things to you, it wasn't fair. And now it's…well you're sitting and you shouldn't have to be."

Evan's luminous eyes seem to harden. "Is that what you think? That it's your fault I'm here right now?" the severity of his tone shocks Hank. "Well, it's not," he continues sharply. "Hank, I pushed you out of the way for a reason. You think a petty fight would stop me from being your brother?" his chest his heaving now with determination. "You weren't exactly model material, yeah, but crap like that doesn't matter when…" he stops, noticing the look on Hank's face.

"I…" Hank can't speak. When did his brother acquire this language, this way of speaking that has him feeling almost…reassured for _his _mistakes? "I'm sorry, Evan."

Evan looks like he may want to say more but he just says, "Thank you." All solemn and serious and just when Hank thinks he's lost some part of his brother, Evan cracks a smile and asks, "So how about that food now?"

**OoOoOo**

Two weeks later, Hank and Divya are sitting across from each other in the guesthouse kitchen, going over usual HankMed business.

Evan has been released for four days already and Hank has refused to let him get out of bed for anything, despite his attempts.

"And then I think we should write these down…" Hank hands Divya two papers. Divya nods, reaching for a pen, when a familiar voice interjects, "Wouldn't it be easier to type those, Henry?"

Hank turns around to see Evan, clad in a bathrobe, looking earnestly at the two of them. Since the accident, Evan has managed to get his usual color back, but his typical demeanor is a little slowed, thanks to the broken leg. Which is ultimately why Evan is supporting himself against the kitchen island right now.

"Evan!" Hank scolds, immediately standing up to help his brother back to bed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hank…" Evan seems to whine. "I'm so _bored _just lying in bed."

"And while I appreciate your uncharacteristic feelings toward laziness, you really do need to _stay_ in bed." Hank shoots Divya a 'give me a minute' look and helps support Evan in his walk back to his bedroom.

"Easy, easy," he says, lowering his brother onto the bed and gently pulling the covers over him.

"Can't I at least sort out bills or something?" Evan pleads.

"Divya and I are sorting everything out," Hank says to him. "You need to rest."

Evan groans. "For how much longer?"

Hank just gives him a look. "Good night, Evan," he reaches behind him to shut the door when he hears Evan say,

"Hey, Hank?"

Hank hesitates, fearing something is wrong.

"Don't let Divya touch the Coleman file. I want that."

Hank smiles. "Yeah, okay, Ev."

"And Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"Sinceee you're not allowing me to get up, could you get me something to drink?"

"Okay."

"Hank!"

"What?"

"And maybe something to eat? But don't cook anything. I don't wanna have food poisoning on top of all this."

"Uh-huh."

"HANK!"

"WHAT NOW?"

Evan grins. "Love you."

Hank smirks. "Like you."

**The end **


End file.
